


a million one reasons to end before you start

by catteo



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 23:03:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3095846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catteo/pseuds/catteo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coda to 1x05. In the interests of honesty I should probably tell you that I listened to MS MR’s song BTSK on repeat whilst I wrote this. You can tell if you know what to look for.</p>
<p>
  <i>those hours in the night, just before light.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	a million one reasons to end before you start

**Author's Note:**

  * For [insomniabug](https://archiveofourown.org/users/insomniabug/gifts).



> I don’t even know what this is. Hurt/comfort? Angst? An excuse for abandoning smut before getting to the good stuff? God knows. I need practice. Clearly.

It feels like an eternity, but Olivier leaves at last, quietly closes the door behind him. In that instant Paul finally knows that he’s not going mad. It’s a relief to accept that every whisper of doubt in his mind has crescendoed to a deafening roar, demanding answers. There’s a familiar face still sharing his life, his home and his bed and she knows things. 

 

Knows _him_. 

 

And he has no idea who she is. 

 

The actions are as familiar to him as breathing. It feels as though he’s been going through these motions for his whole life. 

 

Magazine out.

 

Rack slide.

 

Check chamber. 

 

Dry fire. 

 

A deep inhale as he rolls the smooth metal of a bullet in his palm. Soft exhale as he loads it into the chamber. A routine that carried him from training to battlefield to a life that’s not even real. He can feel the fraying edges of his world settle around him. 

 

Load magazine

 

Rack slide. 

 

Visualise target. 

 

For a second the room swims out of focus and his grip tightens, sharp edges pulling him back to the present. 

 

_Fire._

 

If Paul shifts slightly to his left he can feel it there, coiled at the base of his spine; a single-minded clarity of purpose waiting for its time to strike. This waking nightmare now so close to ending that he feels like he might almost be able to put out his hand and feel the truth pushing back. There’s been an imperceptible shift in his world, blurred edges springing into sudden focus, and he finally understands that this is the moment that will split everything into the before and after.

 

He Paul never expected to find himself here in the dark, playing at being a better man than he knows himself to be. Perhaps there was a time when he could have made different choices, could have _truly_ been the hero, but that’s long gone and he’s reconciled himself to the shadows. He knows that it’s time to let go of this life that was never even his, but it’s harder than he thought it would be to step into the light. He pulls at the torn threads of a cushion as he waits, the dark wool of the couch rough against his arm, and calculates how hard he would have to pull to make everything unravel. Wonders if that might be easier to mend than the million broken pieces of his life.

 

He hears her coming up the steps, the slight grating of metal on metal as her key turns in the lock. This has always been his element. Waiting in the silence. Watching. Adrenaline surges in his gut, muscles already preparing for battle. This is what he trained for. 

 

Who he is. 

 

This is the man that they have made him become. It never occurs to him that the truth he’s demanding could be worse than their lies. 

 

Sarah’s words are keen-edged weapons, the truth cutting deep into sinew and bone, scars he’ll wear forever as proof of his shattered honour. He can taste it on his tongue, the guilt, bitter as salt and iron. For a second he feels the kiss of desert warmth on his body, warring with the searing heat of blood painting his skin, and it steals his breath. There’s cold metal in his hand and a target on another innocent face and suddenly he knows without a doubt that this is what redemption looks like; dark hair and eyes bright with anger.

 

“Just put it down, Paul, yeah? Before you shoot someone.” He’s still staring at her down the barrel of a gun and yet, somehow, Sarah’s voice is perfectly steady. She reminds him of Beth. 

 

_Of how he wanted Beth to be._

 

“You lied.” He barely recognises his own voice, hoarse with an emotion he can’t name. He wonders if it’s sorrow, weighting him down like lead, trying to bring him crashing to his knees.

 

“Yeah? Well, shit, so did you, Paul.,” Tthere’s incredulous laughter on her breath., “Are we really gonna play this game? Who’s the biggest liar? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure you’d win.” 

 

And the fact that she’s right doesn’t in any way lessen the nauseating wave of shame that hits him as he remembers the relief he felt when he finally _knew_ that she was different. That she wasn’t Beth and he wasn’t the only one twisting inescapable coils of half-truths and uncertainties around their lives. 

 

“I never lied to you, Sarah.” It’s easier than he thought it would be. Her name slides off his tongue like quicksilver into the darkness between them, makes him bold, and he takes a step towards her. 

 

“Maybe not. But you sure as hell did to Beth and she found out.” Sarah doesn’t back away, just stands there, waiting. 

 

“And now she’s dead,” he finishes for her. “Because of me. I know.” His own ragged breathing assaults his senses; white noise that threatens to overwhelm him. The gun clatters as it hits the counter and he stares at his shaking hand, wonders at the fact that even his own flesh and blood can betray.

 

“Yeah. Because of you.” Sarah reaches past him for the bBourbon sitting at his elbow, pulls it towards her and raises the bottle to her lips. There’s a barely noticeable clench of her jaw as she swallows, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. She looks him in the eye and proffers the bottle. Takes a breath. “Because of _us_.”

 

Paul finally dares to close the gap between them; a futile attempt to banish the demons hovering in the shadows around her eyes. The slightest brush of skin on skin as he reaches for the bottle is all that it takes. Electricity flares at nerve endings, the same spark that told him she was different, that lit up the night and banished his ghosts. He twines his fingers through hers almost without thinking, murmurs an apology into her hair with no idea who it’s for. 

 

Beth. _I’m sorry._

 

Sarah. _Forgive me._

 

Himself. _I wish I could take it back. I’m sorry. Sorry. Sorry._

 

“Tomorrow, yeah? We’ll talk?” Sarah’s voice holds steady but her pupils are blown as she pulls away, breathing laboured. He can feel her pulse racing under his fingers and Paul allows himself to have hope for the first time in months.

 

“Tomorrow. Sure.” He watches as Sarah walks to the bedroom and softly closes the door without so much as a backward glance. 

 

Paul’s across the room before he even realises what he’s doing, his hand poised on the door handle as he tries to make sense of the jarring voices in his head. Demands breaking themselves into excuses, apologies and a mountain of lies he barely knows how to unravel. The only thing he believes in any more is the feel of Sarah’s hand in his and the taste of the truth on her skin. Tangible evidence that he’s still somehow worth saving.

 

Meaningless words dart through the air between them before Sarah silences him with her mouth on his, her tongue erasing the distance between them in an instant. She tastes like smoke and saltwater and it’s like the first time. 

 

He never thought that she was somebody else. 

 

Her mouth is warm and her breath hot on his neck as his hands slide across angles and curves, fingers coming to rest in the hollows of her spine. And just as suddenly she’s gone, leaving him gasping in empty air, the inches between them suddenly insurmountable.

 

He never really understood Beth, but this girl before him, preparing for battle? This girl he knows as well as he knows himself. He recognises the drive to survive no matter what the cost. Has experienced first-hand the price she’ll have to pay.

 

He’s ready for the war.


End file.
